At dawn, as the sun rises over the mountain, we enjoy coffee and chocolate on the deck. A song sparrow perches on a branch, serenading us with its repertoire of melodic trills. The woodpecker joins in with rapid, precise tapping in its quest for insects. Two juvenile eagles, probably a year old, large females, chirp at each other, and one dives into the Bay, talons outstretched. The Tweet Tweets, as we call them, chickadees, flutter around the two birdbaths and fly through the mist.
The great blue heron squawks like a rheumatic old man. He lands on the tree and gingerly strides up the branch on impossibly thin legs. Mr. Heron will stay there for hours grooming, occasionally squawking, pooping on our deck.
Then the Kingfishers come through. Cute birds with spiked head feathers, the Kingfishers patrol the shoreline with authority. Now that the eagles are departing, the herons and kingfishers are active. The eagles arrive in early May and depart late July. They come for the migration of the Plain Fin Midshipman, a fish that can live in the water and on land.
A few weeks ago, we found a Midshipman on the trail, several hundred feet from the water. We surmised that it was dropped by an eagle. Kirie scooped it up, and we repatriated it into the bay as an eagle circled overhead.
A month ago, before dawn, we were sleeping in the tent above the cliff when Kirie woke to the sound of Orcas. We could spot them breaching and blowing as they quickly swam north.
Otherwise, it’s quiet around here.
Belted KingfisherI wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
— The Waking, Theodore Roethke
Other words words words:
Silly Goose - The goose found a home.
Sucked Into the Tob of the Amiable Child - A Manhattan discovery.
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